


keepin' it surreal

by supremekermit



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, donghyuck deals with feelings, mark is a stupid drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremekermit/pseuds/supremekermit
Summary: "his name falls out of mark’s mouth so easily, low and rough and small like a pretty pebble by the shore. he wants to pick it up, tuck it away. keep it somewhere safe."





	keepin' it surreal

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't supposed to be writing this, but spite is a funny thing

it’s half past midnight when the door to donghyuck’s room creaks open. 

he stirs awake, blinking blearily at the slice of light that falls in from the hallway. a silhouette stumbles through the threshold and lets the door slam behind it. the light extinguishes and the peaceful dark returns. well, save for the loud breathing and the ever so irritating sound of footsteps creaking against the hardwood floor. 

suppressing a sigh, donghyuck buries his head back into his pillow. it’s not like jaehyun to be so loud, but he supposes that the near claustrophobic squeeze of tightly packed schedules were weighing down on all of them. donghyuck could hold his tongue, if just for a shred of silence tonight.

his resolve all but goes to shit the moment warmth presses up against his back and arm drapes across his waist, pulling him close. it’s a touch he knows too well, synapses honed from years of banter under the cold lights of the practice room. donghyuck’s eyes flutter open and he stills, breath hitching.

it’s definitely not jaehyun.

“mark,” donghyuck croaks, just in time for the boy to bury his face in donghyuck’s neck and for donghyuck to get a whiff of alcohol. he wrinkles his nose.

“mark,” he tries again, shifting to his side. the movement pulls a groan from said boy, who seems determined to not let go. in the dark, donghyuck could just make out the way mark squints at him. 

“hyuck.” his name falls out of mark’s mouth so easily, low and rough and small like a pretty pebble by the shore. he wants to pick it up, tuck it away. keep it somewhere safe.

instead, he wills away the thought. “why are you here?”

there’s no need to keep their voices down, no one else in the room. yet, mark whispers back, words slurring under the hush of his breath. “‘m sleepy, hyuckie.”

“sleep in your own bed.”

at this, there’s a pause. donghyuck braces himself for mark to detach himself, for the late autumn chill to settle into the empty space.

“but you’re warmer,” mark whines. and that’s that as he reaches for donghyuck’s blanket, tugging the fabric until draped across his form. he’s quiet as he snuggles into donghyuck’s side again, murmuring a content sigh into donghyuck’s shoulder.

it’s late and donghyuck’s tired. that’s the reasoning he gives himself as he sinks into mark’s touch and closes his eyes. he lets the dark tides sweep in, lull him away to the land of sleep.

“you’re so pretty.”

donghyuck refuses to open his eyes.  _ i’m asleep. i’m asleep. i’m asleep- _

“why are you so pretty? i don’t think that’s fair.” donghyuck can practically  _ hear _ the pout in mark’s voice, and he’d never wished to be unconscious more in his life than at this moment. at a lost of word, he shoulders on, feigning unconsciousness.

mark pokes at his shoulder. “hey, are you awake?”

_ unfortunately yes. _ donghyuck doesn’t move. for a second, there’s silence and donghyuck thinks that mark has finally knocked out. he nearly sighs in relief.

“that’s better, i guess,” mark mumbles and donghyuck desperately wants to stop breathing. before he knows it, there’s a hand in his hair, fingers gently carding through the freshly washed locks. he resists the urge to let out a scream. 

“i know you know you’re talented but i don’t think you  _ really _ know-- you’re so fucking pretty, hyuck. i don’t know what it is but something about the way you sing, the way you dance, the way you talk, the way you smile--” the words slur together to a crashing halt.

“i wish you weren’t so cute. i don’t think that’s very good.” even without opening his eyes, donghyuck could imagine the way mark’s eyebrows would furrow, his lips jutting out at the words. the ‘mark-lee-matter-of-fact” look, as donghyuck had coined.

donghyuck wills his heart to not beat out of his chest. there’s no way mark would say any of this if he was sober and mark lee was definitely,  _ definitely _ not sober. sucking in a discreet breath, he makes a meager attempt to gather his sanity. 

_ mark lee is nothing but a dumb drunk,  _ donghyuck tells himself.  _ nothing but a stupid, stupid drunkard- _

his mind stutters as mark’s fingers move down, to trace the edge of his jaw. in the hush of night, even the dead must be able to hear the way donghyuck’s heart hammers, a beat that knows no rhythm but the accelerating pulse that races under his skin. the fingers skim aimlessly, lackadaisical, until oh, they’re ghosting over the swell of his lips.

this is not the way donghyuck has envisioned it. this is not the way it’s supposed to play out. they’re not supposed to be huddled up in donghyuck’s bed, snug under the polka dotted comforter donghyuck had stolen from johnny’s room. mark isn’t supposed to this close. they aren’t supposed to kiss, like this.

yet, he doesn’t object. he stays ever so still as their lips meet, ever so still mark’s lips slide over his own, and ever so still as he pulls away. it’s a brief touch, but one that robs him of a pulse. he’s a statue in progress, unsure of where jagged marble ends and he begins.

when donghyuck finally finds the courage to open his eyes, he finds mark sound asleep. the sigh that he’s been holding back escapes, muffled by mark’s soft snoring. at this close of a proximity, donghyuck could count the long eyelashes that fan over mark’s sharp cheeks. he could edge closer, until there was no distance between their lips. 

instead, donghyuck closes his eyes and prays for sleep.

  
  
  


when donghyuck wakes up, the bed is empty. a sweet scent hangs in the air, the promise of johnny’s fresh pancakes drizzled in nostalgia. it’s good enough to distract donghyuck from the sinking feeling in his chest, pulling him out of bed and into one of jaehyun’s worn hoodies.

by the time he waddles into the kitchen, he’s made a convincing case to himself. the events of last night must have been a dream, a hallucination induced by a combination of sleep deprivation and the caffeinated tar that jaemin calls coffee. he’s almost entirely convinced himself until his eyes fall on mark, and every carefully reasoned point falls apart like the card towers jisung likes to build.

“you’re finally here,” doyoung chides. he steers donghyuck to the empty seat beside mark before procuring a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes out of thin air. any other day and donghyuck would have made a comment about his mother hen antics, but today was an exception.

“morning,” donghyuck mutters, sliding into his seat. across from him, jungwoo looks up curiously, before something like realization dawns in his eyes and his lips curl into a small smile. donghyuck stifles a groan. of course jungwoo would know.

he’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely processes the hand that lands on his knee, until he looks down and up again. mark’s eyes are glued to his plate, intent on shoveling a pancake into his mouth, but his free hand is warm against donghyuck’s knee.

“can someone pass the syrup?”

donghyuck can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he reaches across the table to hand yuta the container. conspicuously, he lets his hand rest on top of mark’s.

no. it wasn't a dream after all.

**Author's Note:**

> @ ellie, this isn't goth yukhei but i hope you perish.
> 
> i was just as drunk as mark when i started writing this and it probably has 2253712 typos i'm sorry that it exists. talk to me about dumb sleepy boys at [twt](https://twitter.com/haetelier) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/haetelier) | [concrit station](https://supremekermit.dreamwidth.org/278.html)
> 
> title from sweet life by frank ocean.


End file.
